


Locked Inside

by krazyk2314



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comforting Dean, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 12:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazyk2314/pseuds/krazyk2314
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader has had a difficult life, and struggles with self hatred. She is good at hiding behind her mask, but what happens when Dean finally finds out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked Inside

It was scary how well you were able to hide your feelings. Sometimes you wished that someone would notice, and ask, but you were so good at hiding your emotions that no one noticed how much you were hurting on the inside. 

Life at the bunker wasn't bad. It was certainly better than anything you had ever had before. Growing up, you never knew when your parents would return home, they were sometimes gone for weeks, and you never knew if they were still alive, or if the monster of the week had managed to kill them off.

It had always been easier when they were gone, you and your older sister living by yourselves, skipping school, doing whatever you liked. However, life was hell when your parents returned, booze and insults were normal occurrences in your household. You grew up thinking you were never good enough, never pretty or smart enough, and you would never amount to anything. Once you heard it enough, you start believing that it's true.

When you were sixteen, your parents and sister had left to hunt a Rugaru, leaving you behind, complaining you would only slow them down. The last words your parents had ever spoken to you, were etched in your brain. "Stay here you useless pig, you'd only end up getting us killed anyways." It turned out they ended up getting killed anyways.

Five years later, you found yourself dealing with the Winchesters, the best thing to ever happen to you. Once you learned to trust each other as hunters, the friendship came easily. Soon you moved into the bunker, and the two men showed you that you didn't have to be blood to be family. 

Things had been going smoothly, until one night. Vampires had been kidnapping small children, using them as bait to gather food. The three of you stopped the vampires, but not before there were casualties. Two of the children had died, and it had been your responsibility to save them.  Inwardly you were cussing your self, knowing that you had been too slow, too stupid to save them.

Arriving back at the bunker, you slammed your door, earning a glare from Dean. Starting to stride away from the garage to your room, you were grabbed roughly by the arm. The hand turned you, and soon you were face to face with Dean. Sam knew what was coming, and quickly left, not wanting to be caught in the middle of one of your arguments. Usually your arguments were one sided, Dean yelling at you while you stood there, an almost blank look on your face. It was how you had survived your parents yelling many times, and it came in handy when Dean would become upset at something you did, which wasn't often.

"Damn it Y/N, what the hell happened back there? You aren't usually so clumsy, or off your game." Dean yelled, slamming the door of the Impala. Inwardly you winced, but you controlled yourself enough that it didn't show.

"I'm sorry, I don't..." You started to reply, before Dea cut you off.

"Sorry doesn't cut it princess. Sorry doesn't bring those two kids back, does it?" Dean countered, before storming off, leaving you to your own thoughts, which were your worst enemy.

You grabbed your duffle bag, and made your way down the dimly lit hallway, relieved when you finally made it to your room. Your room is your sanctuary, a place where you can let down your guard, and not have to act like everything is okay. Your room might be old fashioned, but you have slowly been making it yours with pictures of you and your sister, postcards of the places you have traveled hanging on the wall. Books were placed on top of the dresser, along with your small jewelry box. Your only other possessions were the clothes in the dresser, as a hunter you were used to living without a lot of personal items.

Throwing your bag on your bed, you stripped out of your bloodied clothes, making your way to your bathroom, almost groaning at the thought of a warm shower.

While the hot water washed over you, thoughts ran through your mind. You knew it was your fault those children died, it seems like you could never do anything right no matter how hard you tried. Dean was right, sorry wouldn't bring those children back.  

Tears streamed down your face, as thoughts you had hidden away came rushing back to batter your already fragile soul. Thoughts of how stupid you were, how ugly too. How you always messed everything up for everyone, and they would be better off without you. 

Your thoughts turned to Sam and Dean. How kind they had been to you, how much you loved them. Instead of concentrating on the goodness of your relationship, your worries surfaced, wondering if they kept you around due to pity, if they really even liked you to begin with. 

Stepping out of the shower, you dried your body, and face, wiping away the evidence of your depressing thoughts. Pulling on your favorite hoodie and jeans, you took a deep breath before making your way into the kitchen, knowing that's where Sam and Dean probably were.

You were right, both brothers were moving around the old  kitchen, hands full of various food objects as they worked together to make dinner.

"Hey Y/N, feeling better?" Sam asked you, while setting the items for a salad on the counter. 

Dean walked by, a plate of hamburger patties in his hands. "Y/N, tell Sammy over there that hunters don't eat rabbit food, will you?"

Dean's utter disgust at the idea of a salad brought a small smile to your face. You joined in the easy bantering, the light tones helping you forget your earlier meltdown in the shower. 

Once dinner was almost ready, you started placing condiments on the table, when you accidentally knocked the ranch off of the table. Inwardly cussing at yourself, you pick it up, mad at yourself for being clumsy once again. Thankful Sam and Dean hadn't noticed, you set it back up on the table before they joined you at the table.

Your clumsiness ruined the rest of dinner for you, and you sat there quietly, eating but not contributing as much as you normally did to the friendly banter. Both Sam and Dean didn't notice, and you were starting to get tired of it. You knew you were good at masking your features, making sure no one knew how much you hated your life, and yourself, but just once you wished there was someone close enough that they would notice. That they would look at you and realize how hard you were working to hold everything in. But it never happened, because you never let anyone get close enough to you, so no one knew how broken you really were.

After dinner, Sam volunteered to do the dishes, and you started to escape to your room, the only place your mask could come off, and you could be your pathetic self. 

As you moved towards the door, Dean's hand brushed against your arm, as his voice rang out. "Where are you going? I thought we could relax, maybe watch a movie tonight? After a hard hunt like that one, we all need some time to relax."

You shook your head, knowing you needed your space, or you might explode. Dean seemed to understand, and he let you pass.

Once you were able to shut your door, you slid down to the floor, exhausted from having to pretend everything was okay. Keeping the mask on was getting harder and more tiring each day, but you knew you couldn't handle the look of pity, or disgust that would surely be on their faces if you told them the truth. At leat this way, you were the only one being negative about yourself.

Finally making it to your bed, you curled into a ball, wishing sleep would come and take you away from the horrible thoughts that were so prominent in your mind today. Sleep refused to come, and you laid therr, curled into yourself, annoyed that you couldn't even fall asleep right. 

Tears started escaping your eyes once again, and you cringed at how weak and pitiful you were. Roughly wiping them away, you panic at the steady sound of a hand meeting wood. Someone was knocking on your door, and you weren't ready to come fade to face with anyone yet.

Hoping they would go away, you answered. "Yeah?" You asked, making your voice sound gruff, like you had been adleep.

"Y/N, it's me Dean. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment." Dean said from the other side of the door, and you knew he wouldn't relent until he got his way. 

Wiping your eyes, you hoped you didn't look as bad as you felt, you stood up and made your way to the door. Opening it, you saw Dean standing there, a bowl of popcorn, and two beers in his hands. Without look at you, he pushed his way into your room, setting the items on your dresser. 

"I decided to not take no for an answer, so pick a movie." He told you, finding the remote to your tv.

"Dean..." You started, unsure what you wanted to say. Just then Dean turned around, and caught sight of your face. Dropping the remote, he strode over to you, placing his callused hand on your cheek.

"You've been crying. Is it because of what I had said earlier? Since when do you listen to anything I say anyways?"

"Dean, it's not that. I..." You stuttered, wanting to explain, but afraid to open up. 

Dean stared down at you, concern on his face, as his finger gently brushed away a tear that had escaped. "If it isn't that, then what? You know you can talk to me about anything."

It seems like your body had been waiting to hear those words, because as soon as he said them your shoulders slumped, and the tears started pouring. 

Dean gathered you in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your back, staying silent as he let you let it all out. And you did, sobbing into his chest, soaking his black tee, as the feelings you had repressed since your childhood burst through your wall.

It wasn't a pretty cry, it was deep, hoarse sobs that left your throat sore, sobs that would have once embarrassed you, but now you were too exhausted to care. 

You almost didn't notice the fact that Dean slowly moved you, until he was sitting on your bed, and you were cradled in his arms, your head still pressed against his chest. 

Minutes passed, but they felt like hours, before you were able to control your crying enough to look up at Dean through tear covered eyelashes. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I've never done anything like this." You muttered, appalled at yourself for letting go, for not hiding your emotions. 

Dean cupped your chin, forcing you to look into his gaze. Expecting to see pity and disgust, what you saw instead surprised you. In Dean's green eyes you saw compassion, and maybe even love.

"Don't ever be sorry. I know what it's like to bottle things up, to never share my emotions with any one. How easy it is to wear a mask, and pretend everything is okay. But listen, don't do that to yourself, it will only cause more pain in the end."

You wiped your eyes, uncomfortable with the support, something you had never had in your life. Dean seemed to sense your unease, because he took your hand in his, rubbing his fingers across the back of your hand.

"This wasn't just about the hunt was it?" He questioned.

Unable to meet his gaze, you nodded. 

"Tell me." He demanded.

You complied, telling him about your childhood, your abusive parents, how much you hated yourself. You left nothing out, and there were many times you felt his hand squeezing yours, either in support or anger, you weren't sure.

Once you were finished, you braved a glance towards Dean's face, noticing a look of anger on his face. Cussing your stupidity, you scamper away from Dean, apologizing as you went.

"Wait, you think I'm mad at you for telling me this? Hell no! I'm mad at your parents, how could they treat you like that! I'm upset, that you would believe such things, and think so little of yourself. Do you know what I see? I see a brave, compassionate, gorgeous woman who has saved my ass more times than I would like to admit. I see a girl I could spend my life with, a girl so smart, so bad ass, so amazing, that I know she would never be interested in a screw up like me." Dean said, causing you to blush. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his, your lips salty from your tears. 

Pulling away, you placed your hand on his cheek. "These thoughts, they have been a part of me for a long time. Its going to be hard to move past them. But maybe we can help each other out. We can both support each other, remind each other that we have good in us, that we don't screw everything up. What do you say?" You asked, knowing you were already passed the friendship stage, but hopeful that things were moving in the right direction. 

Dean smiled, and your heart melted. "I like the sound of that. Just don't forget, you aren't in this alone, don't lock yourself behind your mask again, talk to me instead."

"Ditto." You replied, happy that the smile you were wearing was real, and not a part of a mask any more.


End file.
